A Little Piece Of Chaos
by hybrid3690
Summary: Ryan returns with the sequel to A Quest For Calypso, this time with less of an awkward prologue and a lot more action. Read as his team struggles to keep up and put down the chaos that Hyperion's men are causing on board a large cruise ship. Delve into their demigodly adventures in the world of Greek Mythology. Constructive forms of criticism and compliments are welcome :) Love you
1. Target

I stalked cautiously behind the man, sneakers silently treading on the ground. My sword was grasped firmly in my right hand, glowing golden, its blade as sharp as cheese wire. I was keeping my distance, but I was making sure that I wouldn't lose sight of him. I could not afford to mess this up.

There was an annoying drizzle in the town, the kind where the rain would not affect your vision, but annoyingly drip all over you, just enough to make your clothes moist and sticky. It was also enough to make shallow puddles appear in the lowered parts of the alley floor. But the rain was the least of my worries.

My target was turning left. I followed. We were now walking along a bumpy cobblestone pavement, and soon after, my target stopped in front of a house.

It was a house set in the middle of many others along the pavement, five smooth stone steps leading up to the intimidating mahogany front door. It had four beautiful French windows and a slightly gothic touch to its exterior. Two stone statues of sad angels stood on either side of the door, bringing the state of the house to a gloomy mood. My target rapped on the door smartly.

The door opened with a groan, and a hand beckoned him in.

There wasn't much for me to do after, perhaps, wait outside until my target exited the house. I chose a regular wooden bench on the pavement opposite the house and sat watching the cars and people pass by, while keeping a sharp eye on the house. Nothing.

Four hours had passed and I had reduced my sword back to its thumb-drive form, tapping it impatiently on my knee while I sent a few pigeons scattering with a blast of air from my hand. The people walking around me were engaged in rapid-fire Spanish conversation. The rain had long subsided and all that it had left behind were a few shallow pools.

Unable to bear the boredom that was slowly eating away at my sanity, I stood up and approached a puddle of water. As I summoned a strong blast of air that knocked the water out of the depression in the ground, a fine mist to started to spread around me.

I tossed a golden and slightly dented golden drachma into the mist, hurriedly reciting, "O Isis, blah blah blah, Chiron."

The drachma dissolved into the mist and the image of a half-man, half-horse appeared before me.

"Hey, Chiron, are you sure this is my target? The meeting was supposed to end two hours ago. It's half past nine now. This is beginning to be unsettling." My tone was impatient, and my facial expression was likewise.

"Yes, Ryan. Patience. Just stay alert and follow him," Chiron replied in a soothing, deep voice.

I rolled my eyes and waved my hand through the mist, watching the water particles float away. I continued disturbing the same flock of pigeons, zipping and unzipping my jacket repeatedly to make time pass quicker.

Four minutes later and the same man stepped out of the door, tipping his sleek, black homburg hat politely in the direction of the owner of the house. The door closed behind him and he descended the steps, heading back the way he came from.

He walked briskly away from the house, and I crossed the road hurriedly to catch up to him, avoiding the cars that were zooming about. I put myself at a safe distance behind him, my feet hovering a few inches above the ground to avoid splashing any puddles along the pavement. But the man stopped walking.

I was caught by surprise and dug my heels into the ground, nearly tripping over and sending myself crashing into my target. I stabilized myself, and regained composure. I looked at my target.

His figure was silhouetted against the light of the lamp he was standing under, "I've noticed you since five hours ago. You can give up the chase now."

I uncapped my thumb-drive, the metallic input end elongating into a glowing blade once more, "I can't afford to take any chances. I'm afraid you have met your end." I took a step closer to him, gripping my sword's grip tight in my hand. No slip-ups.

"I don't think that was your assignment. You were given specific instructions, and exterminating me was _not_ an order." His back was facing me, and he was speaking without looking at me. His dark hair peeked out of the shadows that his hat cast on his head. His voice was steady, smooth.

I was slightly taken aback by this. How did he know? But I couldn't let my guard down.

"I do not know who your are. But you are a crook, a thief and therefore a threat to me. I will do what I must."

"What you _must_?" The target asked with an amused tone, "Is killing really necessary?"

"If it means that a threat will be eliminated, then yes."

"I don't recall me saying that I will steal, or somehow fool you as a crook does. You are intelligent. You are wise. I can tell."

I took another step forward, the edge of my sword, Boltstream, digging into the back of his trench coat, "There's no use flattering me now. Prepare to meet your end."

"I am prepared."

I closed my eyes and thrust Boltstream as hard as I could through my target, my arm straightening all the way as the sharp end pierced through the leather of his trench coat. The horrible ripping sound of cloth and a half-hearted yell of pain were heard, and then silence.

I opened my eyes and expected to see golden dust floating around, but all that met my eyes was a torn trench coat impaled by my sword that looked like a kebab. My target!

Where was he?


	2. Discussion

"I swear, he was gone in two seconds. He didn't even make a sound." I buried my face in my hands, "So close."

The ring of first-year campers sitting around me were listening eagerly, trying to imagine what going on a quest was like. They'd never had the chance to go on a quest; they were new and inexperienced. Heck, I'd bet they hadn't even started their archery lessons. They were probably still being brought around by their respective guardian satyrs for the camp tours.

"Was it fun?" A boy in the middle of the crowd asked.

"If you consider four hours of waiting enjoyable," I smiled as I replied. They group of young teenagers laughed.

"Ryan, one second, please. It's urgent," a familiar deep voice called to me from behind.

"Coming, Chiron," I replied, slightly annoyed.

"You guys have fun, alright? Stay safe," I told the first-years.

I jogged alongside Chiron as he trotted towards the Big House, where he took residence. "More information gathered about my target? Can I know his name now?"

"All in due time."

His lower torso shortened and morphed into a wheelchair, so he could fit through the door. I followed. I looked around and observed the sitting area, where a bunch of sofas and chairs were arranged around the fireplace. A painting of Hercules winked at me as it hung above the mantelpiece, the ancient Greek hero flexing his muscles.

"You know, you really have to get a few lamps for this place. It's kind of dark in here."

"I prefer the darkness. It gives me the relaxation to think and meditate about my troubles." Chiron replied, pouring a green liquid into a small porcelain cup, "Tea?"

Four minutes later we were sitting on the sofas, sipping our tea gingerly as we gazed at the fire. "A lot has been happening lately. Unexplained mayhem in the world, even the gods cannot explain."

"I think that came with the word 'unexplained'." Chiron ignored my statement.

"Troubling times are ahead. The heroes are needed again," Chiron closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. His breath was shaky and nervous. It wasn't typical of him; I'd always seen him as a composed and calm, wise and thoughtful Camp Director. But not now.

The room was a deadly, unnerving, empty space of silence as the centaur sat there in thought. The drapes by the window moved slightly ever so often, pardoning a bit of sunlight to stream through the gaps. The fire was soft and weak, dim and quiet.

I tapped my fingers on the arms of the chair, "So, um. You could just tell me if you want to, you know. You don't have to stall," I mumbled softly, hoping Chiron would hear. He was playing the stalling game, I knew it. He wanted something from me. "You told me that this is urgent."

"I am not stalling. I am making serious decisions." His face was buried in his hands, and his elbows were resting on the blankets piled on top of his lap. His face was concealed in the dark shadows, but his expression must have been worried, anxious. Chiron knew how to give bad excuses.

"Come, on, spit it out."

"I...need you for another quest." He coughed the words out like it was painful to say them.

I froze for a bit, "I'd just failed this one. How can you expect me to succeed now?" My eyebrows were furrowed; I couldn't understand the centaur's logic. It was common sense.

"You provide me with so little information, expecting me to do something that's so vague, follow someone that's so mysterious. Why? This is why I fail, Chiron, and if this persists, obviously, I'll fail again. Don't send a blubbering fool on a quest you know he's going to fail." Again, common sense.

Chiron read my thoughts, "Common sense isn't so common. There's a greater meaning behind this, Ryan. Time is running out. Mayhem and destruction may soon run rampant. We must act now. We need you."

The drapes dropped to the ground as if on cue, and the wind from them extinguished the flames suddenly, "If you could get that fixed," I told Chiron, helping myself out of my chair, "I'll get my team ready. I won't let the door hit me on the way out."

And it didn't.


	3. Team

We sat in silence for a while, in a circle, the leaves falling around us gently, rustling as they touched the floor, like leaves during autumn, except green. All sorts of naiad trees surrounded us, the oaks, spruces, the cedars, and pines. It was a small clearing in the middle of the woods, behind the main camp ground where we would sometimes have activities in. But no one was in there except the five of us. The five of us stared down at the ground; legs huddled to our chests tightly.

"So," Dylan broke the thoughtful silence, "How did your previous quest go?" A leaf fell on his buzz-cut hair, and he brushed it off with his hand.

"Horribly. Don't ask too much, please."

Dylan held his hands up in surrender, an amused expression on his face.

"So what did you call us here for? I really appreciate the shared silence we just had, but I think my cabin mates need me for something over there," Kayla told me politely, waving over at her half-siblings at the Aphrodite cabin, smiling and mesmerizing me with her pure beauty. The individual strands of her blonde hair caught my eyes, and her flawless, smooth skin of her body almost made me blush. I, however, kept my cool, composed myself, just like I had to do whenever I looked at Kayla.

Kayla's head turned around to look at me.

"Well, Chiron's come with a request," I told them, furrowing my eyebrows. "Literally, a re-_quest_."

Reactions from everyone were different. Lia was halfway between a smile and a frown, like she had a hard time deciding whether going on a new quest was a good idea or not.

Kayla was full-on smiling, like she couldn't wait to go on another adventure. Sitting beside me, she wrapped an arm around my shoulder and squeezed it tightly due to excitement.

Dylan was looking at the bed of leaves on the ground worriedly, like he was sure we wouldn't be as successful this time round. He had his sword out, Riverburst, and he was tapping it on the ground in choppy, unsteady beats because his hand was shaking ever so slightly as it held the hilt.

Calypso was just plain confused, scratching her head because she didn't get my horrible pun.

A few more seconds of silence.

"What's it about, then? Not more titan trouble, I hope," Dylan told me, smiling as he recounted the events of our previous quest as a team.

"Unfortunately, that's the case," I muttered, furrowing my eyebrows in deep thought. I realized that I was doing that a lot lately. The titans- Hyperion, specifically- what did he want? It couldn't have been Calypso's island, surely, because then he would have gone straight there after he reformed from Tartarus. But he didn't.

"I heard that Hyperion's causing trouble off San Francisco Bay," Lia offered, speaking softly so I was the only one that could hear.

"Yes, Chiron's told me that Hyperion's causing mayhem. In fact, he reformed at San Francisco Bay, when he could have chosen to reform somewhere else."

"Titans can reform wherever they want?" Kayla asked, surprised. She drew her hair back behind her ear in anxiety, taking a deep breath to calm that little nervous part of herself down.

"Yes, and Hyperion chose to reform there. We don't know why, and when he started causing mayhem, or how he's causing mayhem, but Chiron can sense it. And if Chiron's right, then this trouble with Hyperion could spread even further than San Francisco Bay," I told everyone.

"I'm in," Kayla put her arm around my shoulder once more. She had a smile playing on her lips, like she was excited and was trying to contain it, "It's been half a year since our last quest, and it's getting a bit boring."

Dylan kept his sword, and he twirled a blade of grass around his index finger, "Um…"

"You don't have to come if you don't want to," I assured him.

"No, it's fine. I heard San Francisco is really nice this time of the year."

"Lia?" I asked my half-sister, who was biting her white wool cardigan like a small child. She looked up at me.

"Yeah, yeah, sure."

"No dying this time, alright?" I asked her, playfully punching her on the shoulder. The idea of her death was a bit of a joke to us, even though it shouldn't have been.

"Fine," she laughed.

Calypso kept quiet.

"Calypso? Are you okay?" I looked at the innocent, few-thousand-years-old teenager sitting across the circle from me, her lips sealed together tightly, her pure white cheeks blushing a little.

"I've never really been on one of these before…" Her eyes looked down onto the ground, and then up at me, seeking some advice from me.

"It's a good experience," I suggested, leaning back a little to watch a ray of sunlight filter through the leaves and land on Calypso. She shrugged slightly, letting a lose strand of curled hair fall down beside her pretty face.

"Alright, then."

"So it's just the five of us?" Dylan asked.

"And Nightrack, probably, I mean, he's really nice and useful." Everyone nodded.

And that was the team.


	4. Onwards

We took our leave at dawn, Nightrack taking off from the metal gates of the camp where Chiron stood, waving us off. I sighed – the feeling of leaving the camp for another quest within half a year felt horrible; it felt like I was leaving my old home, the one that I had only known for the first three years of my life.

My mother and I stayed in a humble yet lonely house away from the mainland, on an island that had a bridge connecting it to the city. I couldn't remember most of it – I could just vaguely remember some of the things I loved doing in the house, like tiptoeing so that I could peek out of my bedroom window at the ships that passed by.

Most of the memories come to me in my dreams, all of which I consider nightmares. I'd wished that the dreams wouldn't come, so that I wouldn't have to be reminded of the house, of my mother, of the ending of my innocent childhood. Yet sometimes I cherish them, because they tell me little iotas and snippets of my past.

There was always this nightmare that I would have, one that could have me waking up in the middle of the night, shivering, hugging my knees to my chest, crying silently. It really wouldn't seem like much to you, and I wouldn't blame you, because there's a good chance that this had never happened to you, so you wouldn't be able to empathize. But it's all right. It only happened to me.

Tears flowing down my face, my heart breaking, I cried silently as hid behind the sofa in the living room, my mother kneeling down on the floor a few feet away from me. The waves crashed against the shore as a furious storm overwhelmed the island, blackening the clouds and causing rain to pour down mercilessly. Some rain made it through the tiny gaps of the windows, which weren't closed properly, dampening the carpet and wetting the dining room chairs.

"I think I've mentioned to you not to tell _anyone_." The figure looming over my mother hissed at her, his eyebrows furrowed. He threw his coat at me, which I caught. What he didn't throw at me was his umbrella.

"Your umbrella, Dad," I told him, holding my hand out so he could pass it to me.

He sneered, "I'm not going to pass this to you. And don't call me informally as your father. I am Zeus."

"Yes, Zeus," I had made the same mistake once before, and the punishment that was given to me disabled my ability to sit straight for a week.

"This umbrella is for your mother."

"Oh…?" I lifted my head.

I wish I hadn't.

And the dream always stops there, leaving me to wonder what I could possibly have done afterwards, how I had gotten myself into the custody of the government, if my mother had really died there that night under Zeus' hand, how Coach Hedge had found me in the school, and how he'd gotten me to Camp Half-Blood. It was all a blurry story of an emotionally scarred boy.

The previous day, Chiron had insisted that we mustn't consult Rachel, the Oracle of Delphi, for a prophecy, because the last time we did, we were scared stiff that one of our quest members would eventually fall into Hades' hands in the Underworld, his dominion. Of course, it had come true.

We had hesitantly agreed, for Chiron was wise and knowledgeable, and what he said _must_ be for our own good. We were still worried, the five of us, because with the keeping of the prophecy came the keeping of the truth from us, and who knew, another one of us could drop dead this time, during this quest, and there wouldn't be an Apollo to save the dead member.

Naturally, the first thing we thought of when we were told that we were to go to San Francisco Bay was the large population of anti-Olympian monsters there. It was like a permanent convention of the "We hate the gods" club. To add on to our misfortune, the scent of a whole team of demigods would attract monsters from miles around, and we would be a monster buffet by the end of the day.

While Lia and I, being children of Zeus, flew alongside Nightrack and the other three demigods on his back, we tried to formulate a plan for when we would reach San Francisco. We all agreed on separating from one other to find Hyperion or his henchmen, so as to cause a confusion among the monsters.


	5. Cruising

"You breathe too loudly," I whispered to Lia as we walked in the streets of San Francisco, mingling with the crowd, hidden under the very noses of the monsters, "We're here to find them, but we can't let them know we're here."

"They must be easy to find, then," Lia whispered back as we ducked behind a couple, following them to wherever they're going, trying to stall as much time on the same street, waiting for the Hyperion's henchmen to appear. "Monsters stick out a mile from mortals."

My team of five was split into groups of three and two, Lia and I in one and Dylan, Kayla and Calypso in the other. I wondered how the chemistry between the three of them was.

"They might find us before we find them," I said. I suddenly raised a hand, in front of Lia's face, "Hold up."

She swatted my hand away and I pressed a finger to my lips and used another to point towards a Cyclops. This one was young; he was just towering slightly over the head of others, wearing a fleece jacket and matching pants to blend in with the mortals. He stopped by a bakery and emerged minutes later, five loaves of a light brown bread in his hands, which he had then put into a purple haversack on his back. He was really small compared to the others that I'd seen, like the one that I'd escaped from the previous year. No one really stopped to look at him, most of them simply walked past, a few of them turning their heads as they marveled at his oversized body.

He walked in the direction of the pier, turning a corner around an old apartment block, and Lia and I stalked him, pushing our way out of the crowd and dashing across the road to follow him. He called a small taxi, a tiny, yellow cab, and caused the right side of the cab to sink down due to his weight. With trouble, the cab started its engine and began its slow journey.

Lia and I ran after the cab, "Lia, follow me and do what I do, you ready?"

"What?"

Without hesitation, I lunged after the taxi and floated myself an inch from the ground, before my face could slam against the road. Facing the black, granite road weathered with the rubbed of tires from vehicles passing by, I pulled myself under the bottom of the car where I floated, following the direction of the car so that I remained unseen there, in the shadows. A few shouts and screams from women were heard as they saw the crazy boy that just attempted a James Bond stunt succeed in a very dangerous attempt.

Two full minutes later, Lia joined me on the underside of the taxi, "What took you so long?"

As the taxi driver drove and drove, I looked through the elongated slits of vision between the taxi's bumpers and the road, noticing the characteristic straight, crimson red ropes bound to metallic beams of the same color, which could mean nothing but the Golden Gate Bridge that linked San Francisco to the general area of Mill Valley.

Twenty minutes of hovering below a cab, it came to a dusty stop right outside some sort of small cabin. A little more waiting, possibly for the Cyclops to pay the driver, and he stepped out of the taxi. The sudden weight loss in the right side of the taxi made the right side bounce up and down, suddenly slamming me onto the ground. I lost my grip, and thudded painfully onto the ground. Lia dropped down too, shocked from seeing me being squashed between the bottom of a cab and the ground. The Cyclops had already walked a good distance away, due to his long legs.

The taxi's wheels kicked up sand and dust into my face as they spun and zoomed off, its exhaust blasting more ghastly thick black smoke into my face. I coughed it all off and shook my head, blasting wind from my palms in the opposite direction like a turbo-charged fan, creating a large depression in the sand as I did so.

Lia knelt down beside me and helped me sit up straight, patting me on the back to get all the cough out of my tortured lungs, "I'm alright, I'm alright, follow the Cyclops," I told her, shaking the bits of dust and sand out of my hair.

We followed the Cyclops down a road lined with palm trees on either side, small clearings visible through the thin palm trunks. A few teenage girls were having a picnic, grabbing sandwiches and coke out of a small basket, giggling among themselves as the lay in the sun, tanning their smooth skin. Oh, how I wish I was as carefree as them, tanning with my friends instead of trying to save the Olympic world.

"Ryan, Ryan, look at that," my little sister shook my arm, keeping her body close to me. I look, and it's like Zeus conducted all the air out of my lungs, because I'm breath-taken.

In front of me must be the famed Horseshoe Bay, a large, circular body of water with pure, white sand lining a third of its circumference, creating a perfectly curved bay, with large, craggy rocks to accentuate its dream holiday destination sort of feeling. The Cyclops trudges through the sand, kicking some up and over the people lying on mats on the sand. Some scold him rudely but he just kicks more over them, sometimes nearly burying them in the silky sand.

We follow quietly, sometimes helping people sweep the sand of their bodies by conducting some wind to blow it all off. The Cyclops waded into the water and eventually started to swim, large, slow strokes in the water, pushing back what must have been a tidal wave to the people on the beach. Lia and I followed, quite a distance behind, first walking into the crystal-clear water, then wading further in until the water reached our chests, and then began to swim.

With each stroke that the Cyclops swam, we were pushed back, because of the strong current of seawater that he sent at us. Once we were far enough from the beach, Lia and I started to use air to propel ourselves forward, rising to the surface of the sea as many tiny bubbles. The purple haversack that the Cyclops carried stayed completely dry, like I'd seen Dylan's clothes do in water before, like what Poseidon's kids can do. Was the Cyclops a child of Poseidon?

The Cyclops swam around a craggy rock jutting out from the sea like a sore thumb, and continued along the assembly of rocks, until something behind the wall of rock came into view – First, its bow… And then, its stern.

Eventually, the full cruise ship came into view, its main deck populated with a wide assortment of monster – Cyclops, empousa, harpies and even one of the gorgons, but I couldn't tell which of the three sisters she was.

"Oh dear," Lia mouthed with a quivering voice, holding herself close to me, squeezing my hand tightly.


End file.
